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Authorized to Represent tie General Deaconess Work in tie Methodist Episcopal Church
Vol. XI. OaK PARK, CHICAGO, ILL., FEBRUARY, 1895. No 2
FIELD NOTES.
New Year’s Calls.
"Please, missis, mammy wants to see you!”
The lady addressed turned quickly and saw in the doorway the little dusky figure in a soiled and faded blue dress and shoes two sizes too large, who stood looking ap­pealingly at her.
“Ah, Jessie! Good morning. A happy New Year to you. Mamma wants me, does she. Very well, I’ll be there pres­ently.”
“Tank you, missis,” said the child, and drawing a little red and black shawl over her fantastically braided wool, she disap­peared.
“Truly a work of art,—that wool,” so­liloquized the deaconess. “Well, ‘Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul;’ and if during the coming year I can ac­quire the habit of seeing only what is beautiful and lovely in things and people, I shall be a better representative of the female diaconate than I am now. And as I am the only representative of that order in this place, it behooves me to do the best I can.”
Hastily donning bonnet and cloak she went forth into the bright sunshine and crisp morning air, walking rapidly over the glistening snow, down a winding mountain path to the “negro settlement,” a group of cabins in the valley below. Knocking at the door of one of the poorest of these, she entered a rudely-furnished room, the only one in the cabin.
“I’se right glad to see you,” said the patient, spiritless-looking colored woman who admitted her. “My ole man an’ me, we’s both bad. Ole man he’s got de mis­ery wuss than eber, an’ I’se done took cold an’ got a misery in my chest. We ain’t none ob us able to work. I done got a let­ter wrote to a frien’ dat I t’ink p’r’aps could help us a little, an’ I’se goin’ to send it soon as I get holt ob a stamp. It’s right cold to be without fiah.” The matter-of- fact tone showed how habituated the woman was to the extremest poverty.
Tears rushed to the eyes of the visitor, and taking from her pocket a tiny purse, she said, “Fortunately I have a stamp with me; now you can send your letter. We’ll see about the wood, too. You do need more fire, indeed,” glancing at the fire-place where a few twigs, evidently gathered by the little girl from the neigh­boring hillside, lay smoldering. “But you remember Our heavenly Father knoweth we have need of these things, and if we seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, all these things shall be added unto us. ”
Leaving this cabin, the visitor hastened to another a short distance away. This little home was neatly whitewashed, and had a rude porch over which was trained some now leafless vines.
“Good mornin’, honey,” was the joyous greeting of the old “Auntie,” who opened the door. “I’s right pleased to see you. I was jes’ wishin’ you’d come to read to me to-day, it’s bein’ de New Years. ” “Well, here I am, Bible and all,” said the deaconess. “What a beautiful morn­ing it is! How good God is to give us such a day for the first of the year. ”
“Yes, de Lord He’s allus good. I was jus’ t'inkin’ to day ob all His goodness to me; how He neber let me be sold but once.”
“Why, were you a slave, Aunt Chloe?” “Law’s yes, honey; cou’se I was. But I had a kind massa.”
“Not very kind, I think, to sell you.” “Well, you see, he done got into debt an’ had to sell some of the niggers. But he got my husband’s massa to buy me, an’ all the chiluns, too. An’ he done made him promise dat I neber be separated from de chiluns. An’ he kep’ his promise, the new massa, an’ was allus kind. An’ den I lib to see de time come when we neber be sold no mo’! Dere was some dat said de Lord He didn’t lub us, an’ we ain’t got no soul, anyway. But de good Lord He done show dem they was mistaken. He does love us, I know, ’cause He answered our prayers an’ git us freedom. Praise His name!” And the old woman’s ebony face was all aglow. “His goodness an’ mercy
hab followed me all de days ob my life, an' soon I will go to dwell with Him foreber
“Honey,” she continued, “won’t y read in Rebelations, where it tells ’b de beautiful city?”
After an hour spent with the a saint, the deaconess went to “talk mat over” with the schoolmistress, a br young colored woman, whose tho when she left school was to go as a sionary to Africa. But somewhat ened in health from her struggle t an education, she had come here hi to be benefitted by the bracing mou air. Her rather careworn face ened as she unfolded her burden culties to a sympathetic listener, the cold weather had come on, the dren had been very irregular in at ance at school, not having warm clo some of them no shoes at all. An it was so hard to get books. Fro own small salary, scarcely enough to live on, she had purchased slat pencils. But knowing that many o children would soon have to leave s and go to work, it grieved her that could not have the books they r needed.
As the visitor quoted the words of Chloe, “De Lord He does lub us, ’cause He answered our prayers weary teacher smiled and said, “I know what I should do if I didn’t that.”
Her prayers were partially an that very afternoon, when a young man, a student at the State Uni hearing of her perplexity decided go the pleasure of a horseback r devote the money to the cause c tion instead, laughingly saying wrote the name of Thomas Jefferson on the fly-leaf of a First Reader his illustrious predecessor, the become a president; and perha make me his secretary of state fo started him in the way of getting cation.”
The deaconess has found the poor old Aunt Viny, with the ‘ her chest,” but the school sup]
Advocate

Authorized to Represent tie General Deaconess Work in tie Methodist Episcopal Church
Vol. XI. OaK PARK, CHICAGO, ILL., FEBRUARY, 1895. No 2
FIELD NOTES.
New Year’s Calls.
"Please, missis, mammy wants to see you!”
The lady addressed turned quickly and saw in the doorway the little dusky figure in a soiled and faded blue dress and shoes two sizes too large, who stood looking ap­pealingly at her.
“Ah, Jessie! Good morning. A happy New Year to you. Mamma wants me, does she. Very well, I’ll be there pres­ently.”
“Tank you, missis,” said the child, and drawing a little red and black shawl over her fantastically braided wool, she disap­peared.
“Truly a work of art,—that wool,” so­liloquized the deaconess. “Well, ‘Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul;’ and if during the coming year I can ac­quire the habit of seeing only what is beautiful and lovely in things and people, I shall be a better representative of the female diaconate than I am now. And as I am the only representative of that order in this place, it behooves me to do the best I can.”
Hastily donning bonnet and cloak she went forth into the bright sunshine and crisp morning air, walking rapidly over the glistening snow, down a winding mountain path to the “negro settlement,” a group of cabins in the valley below. Knocking at the door of one of the poorest of these, she entered a rudely-furnished room, the only one in the cabin.
“I’se right glad to see you,” said the patient, spiritless-looking colored woman who admitted her. “My ole man an’ me, we’s both bad. Ole man he’s got de mis­ery wuss than eber, an’ I’se done took cold an’ got a misery in my chest. We ain’t none ob us able to work. I done got a let­ter wrote to a frien’ dat I t’ink p’r’aps could help us a little, an’ I’se goin’ to send it soon as I get holt ob a stamp. It’s right cold to be without fiah.” The matter-of- fact tone showed how habituated the woman was to the extremest poverty.
Tears rushed to the eyes of the visitor, and taking from her pocket a tiny purse, she said, “Fortunately I have a stamp with me; now you can send your letter. We’ll see about the wood, too. You do need more fire, indeed,” glancing at the fire-place where a few twigs, evidently gathered by the little girl from the neigh­boring hillside, lay smoldering. “But you remember Our heavenly Father knoweth we have need of these things, and if we seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, all these things shall be added unto us. ”
Leaving this cabin, the visitor hastened to another a short distance away. This little home was neatly whitewashed, and had a rude porch over which was trained some now leafless vines.
“Good mornin’, honey,” was the joyous greeting of the old “Auntie,” who opened the door. “I’s right pleased to see you. I was jes’ wishin’ you’d come to read to me to-day, it’s bein’ de New Years. ” “Well, here I am, Bible and all,” said the deaconess. “What a beautiful morn­ing it is! How good God is to give us such a day for the first of the year. ”
“Yes, de Lord He’s allus good. I was jus’ t'inkin’ to day ob all His goodness to me; how He neber let me be sold but once.”
“Why, were you a slave, Aunt Chloe?” “Law’s yes, honey; cou’se I was. But I had a kind massa.”
“Not very kind, I think, to sell you.” “Well, you see, he done got into debt an’ had to sell some of the niggers. But he got my husband’s massa to buy me, an’ all the chiluns, too. An’ he done made him promise dat I neber be separated from de chiluns. An’ he kep’ his promise, the new massa, an’ was allus kind. An’ den I lib to see de time come when we neber be sold no mo’! Dere was some dat said de Lord He didn’t lub us, an’ we ain’t got no soul, anyway. But de good Lord He done show dem they was mistaken. He does love us, I know, ’cause He answered our prayers an’ git us freedom. Praise His name!” And the old woman’s ebony face was all aglow. “His goodness an’ mercy
hab followed me all de days ob my life, an' soon I will go to dwell with Him foreber
“Honey,” she continued, “won’t y read in Rebelations, where it tells ’b de beautiful city?”
After an hour spent with the a saint, the deaconess went to “talk mat over” with the schoolmistress, a br young colored woman, whose tho when she left school was to go as a sionary to Africa. But somewhat ened in health from her struggle t an education, she had come here hi to be benefitted by the bracing mou air. Her rather careworn face ened as she unfolded her burden culties to a sympathetic listener, the cold weather had come on, the dren had been very irregular in at ance at school, not having warm clo some of them no shoes at all. An it was so hard to get books. Fro own small salary, scarcely enough to live on, she had purchased slat pencils. But knowing that many o children would soon have to leave s and go to work, it grieved her that could not have the books they r needed.
As the visitor quoted the words of Chloe, “De Lord He does lub us, ’cause He answered our prayers weary teacher smiled and said, “I know what I should do if I didn’t that.”
Her prayers were partially an that very afternoon, when a young man, a student at the State Uni hearing of her perplexity decided go the pleasure of a horseback r devote the money to the cause c tion instead, laughingly saying wrote the name of Thomas Jefferson on the fly-leaf of a First Reader his illustrious predecessor, the become a president; and perha make me his secretary of state fo started him in the way of getting cation.”
The deaconess has found the poor old Aunt Viny, with the ‘ her chest,” but the school sup]
Advocate